Splendours You Never Have Dreamed
by funkyflamingo
Summary: ...all your days will be yours...


_Just something special I wrote for today ;) Warnings are in order: you're warned. And I'll update Deception later, I'm sorry it's taken so long. _

_Happy valentines day my dears!_

* * *

'Splendours,' she'd promised him. Splendours such as he'd never dreamed.

What splendours did she possibly think she could give him that he hadn't dreamed of?

Every night for fifteen years his dreams had been bathed in blood. And every morning he'd woken less disturbed by them and more pleasured, as he became less of the man he was and more of the demon he was to become.

Her words had been the final straw.

"She poisoned herself."

And the transformation had been complete.

Yes, he would have splendours from her alright. "Tonight my friend," he whispered to his silver beauty.

She came up to his room after dark. He'd expected it, really. Oh he wasn't stupid. He knew the meaning she'd intended her words to have. The meaning she believed they had. It was just a shame she and he had such a different definition of the word 'splendours.'

A shame for her.

--

He was hers now. Lucy had (good as) gone, he was back and he was hers, more than she'd even dreamed. This man who'd returned to her…he was even more perfect for her than her dear Benjamin Barker had been. And he _was _hers. A small smile danced on her lips as she climbed the stairs and took a breath before pushing open his door.

There he was. He was waiting for her, although he maybe didn't realise it. His back was to her, she knew there was a frown etched on his face as he stared numbly out over the dirty London rooftops.

"Mr. Todd?" She spoke softly so as not to startle him. She knew he'd heard although he made no noise so she stepped closer, her boots clunking softly on the wooden floor.

"You alright up here dear?" She asked him gently, coming to a stop behind him. She lifted a hand and placed it on his shoulder.

He spoke, sounding reluctant to be doing so, after a moment. "What do you want?"

"Thought you might like some company." She let her voice be as husky as it wanted to, and let her tiny smirk lace it's way into her words so as to leave no doubt in his mind of her intentions for coming to him.

Turning slowly, he faced her, and she knew he'd caught her intentions alright. "Company?"

She gave him the smallest of smiles, her whole face speaking her suggestion. "Yes. Company."

Taking his hands in hers she found them limp and proceeded to move one to her chest, pressing it there, and the other she pushed down her body towards her skirts. Her own hands she moved away while his remained, one resting on a soft breast and one hovering at her skirts.

She gave him another small smile to let him know it was alright.

He frowned at her – there was some confusion as well as anger in his frown – and withdrew his hands from her, turning his back to her once again.

--

He didn't want to touch her, not like that.

The feel of her small hands sliding up his back to his shoulders made him shiver and her hot breath on his neck, her voice low in his ear – she must be raised on her tiptoes behind him – sent a grimace to his face.

"It's alright love. Fifteen years is an awful long time to go without the touch of a woman."

She pressed himself against her back and - yes, of course, he knew. He clenched his jaw. "When did you loose Albert?" The question was reluctant, but he needed an answer before he could make his point.

"Five years after you left."

Her hands hadn't moved from his shoulders. "Ten years is an awful long time to go without the touch of a man."

There went her hands, slipping from his shoulders to slide round his chest, and run down, over his stomach. "Well." Her voice was still soft and he knew she was aware he knew. "'Ad to feed meself somehow didn't I?"

He turned to face her then, but her hands didn't slip from him, instead rested on his sides now, gripping the material of his just gently.

His face was cold. "I'm not paying you."

She shook her head. "I'm not asking you to pay me love. I just wanna help ya. I can make ya feel a bit better. Ease yer tension at least." She pouted up at him. "Won't ya let me 'elp you?"

He had meant he wasn't taking her services full stop, but she clearly missed the point.

Oh well. What did it matter? If he was to get his splendours from her he supposed he may as well let her have hers too.

"Yes." He hissed suddenly. "I'll let you help me."

--

Her little flicker of triumph and thrill that shot through her body was cut short when he placed a hand to her chest and shoved her. Back, back, he forced her, stumbling over her own feet, nearly falling, back until her back slammed into the wall, making her jump in shock.

Then cold metal was pressed to her neck – cold sharp metal – and she froze altogether.

"I'm – I'm sorry Mr, T-Todd sir, I just, just thought, I –" She stammered, her heart pounding beneath her rib cage.

"I've dreamed of splendours, Mrs. Lovett," He uttered to her, his voice low and husky and his face so close as his eyes roamed her chest and neck – particularly her neck (and his worried her further), that she could feel his breath on her skin. "For fifteen years. It's all I have dreamed of. It's all these have dreamed of." He trailed the blade across her exposed white neck, not breaking the flesh, but making her tremble and hold her breath all the same.

His razor continued down to trace her collar bone, then the tops of her breasts and she relaxed a little, the fear that he was going to slit her throat open right there vanishing as a hand came up to press her shoulder back to the wall, pushing her heaving chest out, near exposed to him with the scarceness of fabric at the top of her dress.

When his blade continued to trail over her chest and did not pierce her flesh she grew more confident, until she lifted a hand to slide up his chest, curling her little fingers round his stock and tugging on it gently, encouragingly, to pull him close to her.

--

"Splendours, Mr. Todd," she whispered to him. "I can give you splendours – whatever you've dreamed…more…" Her eyes flicked down to the blade that was held limply in his hand by her collar bone. Her hand fluttered up – clearly with the intention of taking the razor from his hand to move it aside – but he caught her action too quickly and grabbed her wrist with his other hand, wrenching it away from his razor and pinning it to the wall beside her head, his arm across her chest, pressing against her neck slightly.

A loud shocked gasp parted her lips as a tiny trickle of blood spilled from the newly pierced flesh of her collar bone, where he'd let his friend sip it's first taste of those splendours he'd promised it.

"Yes," he whispered to the panting woman, "you can."

--

His arm released it's hold on her and she flew from his grasp, stumbling past him and backing away quickly, her eyes wide and the fear she felt bubbling inside etched onto her face.

Her back hit the opposite wall and she was trapped, trapped as he took slow steps towards her, his black eyes shining, that silver blade gleaming, just tinted ever so slightly with a few spots of her blood.

She watched him warily as he approached her, so unsure of him suddenly…she had him back and he was all she'd ever wanted…she couldn't die now!

His hands they held out towards her, his lips curling into a hint of a smile, his eyes sill fixed on her, too intensely to let her relax at his open gesture.

"Come," he said softly to her, his rough voice caressing the word in a way that made her blood run hot. "Let me hold you."

She flattened herself against the wall as he stalked further towards her, and when he was within distance to reach her she was powerless to stop herself from falling into his arms.

--

With fascination he held her, caressing her neck with his mouth, amazed, _amused_, at how easily her trust was gained, knowing it was completely when he felt her arms slip from him and pulled back a little to watch them move behind herself.

Breathing hard she was, and he watched her tugging quickly, deftly behind her back before the corset fell away from her like she'd shed a layer of her skin. Then those nimble fingers were at the front of the next layer of skin and pop, pop, went the little buttons as they were tugged from their holes, until she pulled at either side of the material to uncover a beautiful canvas of white to his eyes.

How considerate of her, to expose more flesh for him to draw what he craved from.

He wasted no time in flicking a line of scarlet across her left breast, almost careless, the movement was so casual. A sharp gasp this drew from her but not a protest, no, not from her mouth.

Flick, flick went his friend, growing greedier with every movement, pressing deeper to taste more of those sweet rubies it so craved as his eyes followed it, drinking in his own fill of the same cravings.

A line he cut, down her stomach, down, all the way down from between her breasts. The white line turned red and that red began to run and drip, so deep had he cut. He wondered that she didn't make more of a fuss, knew somewhere dully in the back of his mind that this surely was uncomfortable for her, that cutting into flesh like this tended to hurt, to make the cut cry out and twist away from the pain.

Not her. Cry out she did, but softly, breathily, and instead of twisting away she pushed only further towards him.

--

Oh it hurt her. She didn't like it, no not at all. There were tears stinging in the corners of her eyes from the sharp stabs of pain he was causing her, making her want to scream his blade was scoring so deep into her skin. But she didn't. She wanted to help him after all, she'd offered to help him – she couldn't refuse now.

It was only when he pushed that razor into her side and dragged it hard through her, tearing her flesh apart, through layers of skin and into muscle it went, that she couldn't prevent the, "please, stop…" from spilling from her lips. Just a shaky whimper, but he heard it.

--

He was still, looking into her eyes until they opened, to stare wide back at him. Her lip trembled a moment before she spoke, a whisper, a plea.

"It hurts."

So there it was. She wasn't inhuman then, just too infatuated to have stopped him until it was unbearable. But he couldn't stop, not now, not now he'd had a taste of those rubies he'd dreamed of for so long. He wanted more.

And he would make her give him what he wanted.

--

His mouth slammed into hers so hard and so suddenly she could barely register it before his very tongue was pushing against her own. Oh there was nothing she could have done to prevent the hoarse moan from spilling into his mouth, nor stop her hands reaching up to clutch desperately in his hair.

Passion. This was passion. She'd almost forgotten what it had felt like.

In fact, she wasn't sure she'd ever really felt it before this moment.

Another sharp pain shot through her body – it came from her shoulder – but she hardly registered it now, knowing only somewhere in the back of her mind that it was there but not caring or even feeling it enough to do anything about it; her senses were all so totally engulfed in the mouth that was now devouring her own.

His mouth wrenched from hers so suddenly it pulled a gasp with it, but quickly his lips were on her neck then her collar bone and along they traced to cover the slash of red across her otherwise perfect white skin and she was soaring again.

Her whole body began to tremble as his tongue flicked over the gash he'd made down her shoulder and she was hardly even aware of the pain his saliva in the open wound was causing.

That silver beauty struck again, fast as a snake, one thin line of red on the top of a breast and his mouth followed that too. A hoarse moan choked out of her tight throat, her hands clenching in his mass of dark hair as his mouth glided to her ruby covered nipple to lap up the sweet juice as if it were nectar.

Oh she didn't care what he did any longer; she would take all the pain in the world if it meant he would take _her._

--

To the floor they sank. He knew not if her legs had given way and she'd dragged him down with him, or if he'd pulled her down himself but he didn't care. From this new position he could push her onto her back to lean over her, and he paused a moment, his body burning as he stared down at the slashes of red that covered her bare torso.

"So beautiful," he breathed in wonder of the rubies before his eyes. She gave a soft sigh and he imagined she'd probably thought he'd spoken of her.

So enraptured in his staring he was, he hardly noticed as she tugged the garments from his upper body, shrugging out of the vest and shirt mindlessly as she pushed and wrestled them frantically from his body until it was free, free for her arms to wrap round him and clutch to his back, hands splaying against bare skin.

This caused her blood covered skin to vanish from his sight, pressed tight against his own, so he shrugged her off, forcing her arms from round him irritably and leaning over her on an arm to trail the other down from her neck between her breasts and over her stomach, smearing the red that was still wet over her skin as it went.

Realising he was going to have to keep her happy as she squirmed and panted on the floor, a little frown on her face - clearly noticing her own discomfort now he wasn't touching her the way she wished - he lifted his hand to cup her breast, flicking a thumb over the hard nipple as he leant down to press another hot kiss to her parted lips.

Again he felt her squirming beneath him, and he registered dully that she was wriggling out of her dress, pulling his hand from her chest to the material to encourage him to pull it from her.

This he did, kneeling over her to shove the nuisance garment down her legs and off, tossing it aside,

Obviously still not content, she shifted and wriggled some more, pushing her bloomers down her legs. Wanting her to keep still, he seized the things in his hands and yanked, tugging off her boots too, when he found them catching on them, and throwing the whole lot to the side.

Leaning back over her to gaze at the expanse of white, letting his eyes sweep down over her small form, he fixed them on her taut stomach, craving once again to see what he could draw from that supple white skin, mesmerised when the red flooded to the surface and overflowed out of the new opening. He found that still she writhed and struggled and trembled beneath him, scrabbling at his hands and muttering things to him he didn't listen to, and he wished she'd cease, quickly finding that a few fingers shoved between her legs took care of this for him. He was only vaguely aware of the fact that she was as hot and wet there as where his other hand drank the blood that pooled from the skin of her abdomen.

--

Her legs were cradling his hips now; she'd managed to get his trousers un-done and shove them down his hips and he was poised over her, his mouth hot under her ear where those fingers of his, glazed in ruby-red blood had painted her skin, and she wondered that he wouldn't just get on with it.

She could feel he wanted it as much as her…or was he perhaps even unaware of his sexual arousal? As he moved his fingers harder and harder against the blood on her stomach, neglecting the movement of the ones inside her, she became more and more certain that this was the case.

Well, splendours she'd promised him, and splendours she would give; she would show him what_ real_ splendours he could find in her body.

---

It was clear what she wanted from him. He supposed he wanted it too - or at least his body certainly seemed to; he was impartial.

She whimpered and begged with her wanton body, and her voice too. "Please, please love," she breathed pitifully in his ear, making him shudder at her close breath and her nails digging into his back, struggling to push her hips towards him desperately. So he shoved himself inside her. It would keep her quiet, and cease her infernal wriggling anyway.

It didn't keep her quiet, in fact it did quite the opposite; she now cried out repeatedly, the pathetic little sounds she was letting out almost squeaks, her eyes closed, hands still uncomfortably tight on his back as she forced their hips to a rhythm to match her cries. No, she wasn't quiet at all, so he was forced to put a hand over her mouth, muffling the wretched sounds finally.

--

To her horror, she felt tears sting her eyes as his cold palm pressed against her mouth, his eyes looking anywhere but hers, his face twisted with a dark frown as another line he drew, on her arm this time. Her chest lurched in agony and her throat tightened. She'd been treated worse, of course, but this was _him_, this was finally what she'd always wanted and this was _horrible._

--

He was aware that he was moving fast now, his body automatically moving to the rhythm of her heartbeat he could feel against his chest, thumping loudly, wildly, pumping all that beautiful blood round her body in panic as it leaked out of the openings his beautiful friend – more beautiful than it had ever been now it was stained red – had made on her body.

The realisation that he was probably hurting her flickered briefly though his mind; her little muffled squeaks against his hand and the tears welling in her big dark eyes when he let himself catch them briefly would suggest so. To hard for the whore perhaps? Or was it his body viciously rubbing against the open wounds he'd created all over hers that drew the sounds from her? The thought of her pain was there yes, but only briefly, before it was discarded as useless information.

Pleasure built inside him, a feeling so foreign after so long…but it wasn't enough, his heart pumped for the other kind of pleasure he had found that night, and his hand moved, his friend bringing him his pleasure, and basking in it itself, gleaming with delight at the shimmering liquid rubies it set free from the side of her neck, drawing a shriek from her, probably a fear that it would continue all the way along.

But no, this was enough, just enough for now, just enough that he could close his eyes and see beautiful red as his own blood ran hot all over and a hoarse moan sounded in his throat, the crescendo of his quest for the splendours she'd promised him and he'd promised his friend having been reached.

"Splendours you _never _have dreamed." He snarled cruelly in her ear before he stood hastily, fixing his trousers and retrieving his shirt from the floor, grabbing her dress while he was there and tossing it at her.

--

She scrambled up and dressed hurriedly with furiously shaking hands, before pausing to give his cold back one last look.

She turned and fled from the room, her heart more broken than it had been fifteen years ago when he wouldn't even have _dreamed _of touching her.

* * *

_Can you tell I hate valentines day?_

_Ha ha. _

_I'm sure most of you will hate this, I don't really care if you do, the irony of posting it up today is too amusing to me :P_

_x_


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